Nightmares and Polar Bears
by VanillaSpiders
Summary: America wakes up in the middle of the night to hear his twin having a nightmare. fluff oneshot brotherly love


**Author's Note: This hasn't been edited. And also I either want to read a fanfiction about Canada getting sick. Or write one. If I can't find the above one, it'll have to be the latter. Also, this take place with them as young teens, 13 or 14, during the time Canada and America live under one roof with jolly old England. **

Alfred wasn't sure what it was that woke him up exactly. All he knew was he was awake suddenly, lying flat on his back in his bed, arms eagle spread and blinking dully up at the glow-in-the-dark star pasted along the ceiling of his and Matthew's room. (Mattie's were willy-nily on his side of the room, but there were fifty small stars in nine horizontal rows above America's.) For a few seconds the teenage nation stared up blearily at the ceiling, contemplating simply rolling over and falling back to sleep.

But just then America heard a noise. And it sounded like whimpering…maybe? Possibly.

America held his breath and internally screamed for his body to shut down so he could hear in the dark. (We've all done this. It seldom works.)

No, _definitely_. It was that soft and gentle gasps in between heavy breaths, coupled with murmurs leaking from the equally dark portion of Matthew's side of the room. Alfred felt his heart rate spike a bit at the sound of his little brother's noises of discontent. It hit Alfred then, Matthew was having a _nightmare_.

Uh-uh No way was that gonna fly. Not with big brother America right across the fucking room.

Matthew shifted restlessly, (Alfred could _hear_ it clear across the room) and the lanky blonde sprung into action before his little brother accidently toppled out of his bed, which would only serve in scaring himself even more.

Alfred had his covers yanked back in his fist by the time his body lifted him up, bending at the waist a bit to ere on the side of caution when it came to walking, lumbering through the dark and cursing when he tripped over one of their shoes. He kicked it out of the way, and it collided with something to his left, maybe the door. It didn't occur to Alfred to turn on a light or something until he was looming before Matthew's bed, knee caps pressed against the twin mattress so Alfred knew exactly where he was in the room.

Something growled-and America paused.

"S'just me Kumo." He whispered, waiting.

Abruptly the growls ceased, and America knew he was given safe passage to approach his brother with the possibly of getting mauled by a _polar bear_, of all things.

Which was a very real threat, considering the bear attachment to Matthew, but the one thing aside from food and Mattie he seemed honestly amiable towards was Alfred as well. (England couldn't figure it out. Alfred was convinced it was because Artie had tried to feed the poor bear his cooking once. He'd be hostile too if he was expected to live of their big brother's cooking.)

That reassuring thought about Kumo did little to stop him from nearly jumping out of his skin when Mattie gasped out a tiny yelp, and struck out, whacking poor America in his stomach.

At this point Alfred was too tired and too worried for Matthew to get annoyed at him, so he massaged his wounded abdomen and crawled into bed with the shorter boy without hesitance, just as Kumo was curling up at the foot of the bed, apparently confident in the new arrival's abilities in calming his boy down. Alfred moved on instinct in the dark, and that second sight we all sort of get when it comes to be too dark to see, but light enough to feel. Next to him, he felt Canada shy a bit, but Alfred, expecting this, lay on his side and used his height to his advantage, starting first with holding Matthew's torso and arms securely in place, then hooking a long leg over Matthew's slightly bent ones.

Upon the moment after that Alfred set his chin on top of Matthew's skull and applied just a bit of pressure, gently humming through slightly parted lips, a gentle tone that Alfred knew Matthew would hear, as cheesy as it sounded. It would quiet his little brother down, he was positive.

As predicted, Matthew _did_ calm down. In almost a matter of seconds, maybe two minutes. His arms and legs falling slack against Alfred's own and his back arching to the soft strokes as Alfred ran his thumb up and down Matthew's back. This in turn brought Matthew's face, damp with tears still, to bury up and into the blonde's sternum. At this point, Matthew was basically burrowing up against Alfred, and Alfred was shamelessly enjoying it. It was all Alfred could do to let Matthew press impossibly closer to him, the light blonde still shaking like a leaf every now and then.

After another few minutes Alfred finally felt Matthew's breathing relax out, until not a minute later it changed tone again, catching softly and re-pacing itself as Matthew moved drowsily against him. Alfred pulled back a bit, staring down into the not-quite-pitch-black shadows arched and tucked over Matthew's features. He imagined the smaller teen blinking sleepily, trying to rub his dry, salty cheeks and then realizing something-or someone-was pinning him, rather lovingly mind you, against their body and was not intending on letting go for nothing short of the world ending.

And even then Alfred would probably only hang on tighter, stubborn as he was.

"…Al…?" Canada asked softly from the dark.

"Yeah Mattie?

"I'm sorry."

America blinked in confusion. The voice was groggy and soft spoken, a slightly high pitched tone that Alfred could hear at a whisper across the room, because he'd spent so much precious time teaching himself to be able to find his twin, always, to keep him safe. It was why Alfred heard his brother nation when none of the rest did, it was why when he asked who Canada was he was just teasing. It was why Alfred had woken up from across the room when Canada had started to have a nightmare.

"Mattie, don't worry about it."

Mattie didn't say anything after that, but he wiggled up a few inches til America could see his twin's soft puffs of breath against his cheek from where he lay on the pillow. His silence screamed volumes to the darker blonde, who was still holding him tightly even after Matthew's

Thin, intrepid fingers suddenly found Nantucket and gently fiddled with the strand idly, and Alfred felt himself laugh softly, smiling down into the dark at his brother. The American didn't need good light to see the shy little smile that was shot back at him, the trademark of Canada's physical body aside from the thin curly q hair and glasses.

"Alfred?"

Alfred opened his eyes back, only realizing just then he'd closed them as sleep tried to reclaim him. Mattie's tender ministration with his hair was only making it worse.

"….yeah?"

"Thank you, Al."

Alfred yawned. "No problem Mattie. That's why I'm—" He yawned again and couldn't get it out because of Matthew's soft laughter. He played a wounded hero for a second as Mathew controlled his laugh and hugged Alfred back.

"My brother?"

"…yeah." Go with that. There was a pregnant pause. "…Was it scary?"

"…what?" Matthew asked politely, unsure of Alfred's sudden inquiry.

"Your nightmare. …Was it scary?"

"Not really. It was lame."

"Oh."

They fell asleep after that. Well, Alfred did.

But Canada stayed awake, listening to his twin snore gently and feeling him twitch in his sleep, his heavy arms still around Matthew, because in his sleep America took less care with his super strength than he was when he was awake, and that wasn't even much then, all things considered.

"…That nightmare was scary. I lost you." Mathew mumbled in a gentle hush as he too drifted off, the comforting embrace of his twin reminding him that his dream had just been exactly that, a dream.


End file.
